


Routine Checkup

by queenhomeslice



Series: Gladdy Daddy Thirst: Gladio/Reader Stories [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Crush, Background Promptis - Freeform, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Nurse Practitioner Reader, Size Neutral Reader, Soft Gladiolus Amicitia, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: If you were to ask Gladio what he thought about __________, the nurse practitioner in the east medical wing of the Citadel that was exclusively for Noctis and his retainers, he would say that she was nice, funny, and good at her job, but never anything more.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Reader
Series: Gladdy Daddy Thirst: Gladio/Reader Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682950
Comments: 26
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.  
> _____  
> Originally a prompt given to absolutelynoct that I decided to take on, since reader-inserts are my thing! Because this is a prompt, and I do not know the body shape of the requester, reader is female and can be read as being fat or thin; body descriptors will be as vague as possible so as to be all inclusive. :) Original Tumblr ask to absolutelynoct below: 
> 
> "Can you do a prompt with Gladio x reader where Gladio and the reader, she is a physician at the Citadel, have been friends for awhile [sic] and he wants to ask her out, but he is so nervous which isn't normal for him so he asks Ignis for help (they are all friends) and he is nervous and bumbling and just so cute and endearing and of course it is mutual??? Is that okay? Thank you!!!..." 
> 
> I took some creative license with this of course, and am drawing it out because I wanted some buildup of Gladio coming to terms with his feelings rather than just dropping into him having them figured out already--but anyway, enjoy! OP, if you're out there, I hope this is close to what you pictured! Will try to be regular about updating but this was not something that I saw fitting into a one-shot for me, lol.

If you were to ask Gladio what he thought about __________, the nurse practitioner in the east medical wing of the Citadel that was exclusively for Noctis and his retainers, he would say that she was nice, funny, and good at her job, but never anything more. She’d been hired just last year, a nervous new graduate that was now faced with the task of providing the most elite medical care in the city—but she’d been recommended by other top medical officials, so when Noct’s old childhood doctor had retired, she was brought in, fresh-faced and new to the perks of fancy Citadel life, but she quickly became a routine part of their visits there. 

Gladio seemed to be in her office more and more these days—for little things like minor training scrapes and bruises, a pimple in the middle of his back that he couldn’t reach, a wart on the bottom of his foot that needed to be burned off. ___________ was quickly becoming more of a friend, with Gladio confiding in her about his worries that he wouldn’t live up to his family legacy of protecting Lucian royalty; about his questioning sexuality—bisexual, they’d finally decided together, after months of talking in-depth about the subject; and general bitching sessions about how Noctis got on his every last nerve, and when was the kid going to grow out of his lazy nonchalance? And if Gladio felt his heart beat go a little faster after hearing her laugh about Noct’s refusal of broccoli yet _again_ , well, he guessed it was just the underlying nervousness of being in a doctor’s office, or something like that. Feeling slightly flushed and shaky when receiving medical attention was totally normal, right? 

“Good session today, Gladio,” says Ignis once they reach the locker rooms and begin to undress. 

“Yeah, Iggy, nice work. You really had me on the ropes.” Gladio takes off his black tank top and examines the nice, clean cut on the side of it, courtesy of Ignis’ dagger. “Ugh, gonna have to throw this one away.” 

“My apologies,” says Ignis as he finishes undressing and slings a towel over his shoulder. “Put it in my bag. I’ll be sure to mend it when I go over to Noct’s later this evening.” 

“You sure? You don’t hafta do that, Iggy. I can go buy another one.” 

“Nonsense, I was the cause, after all.” 

Gladio shrugs and doesn’t argue, tossing the ripped tank on top of Iggy’s open duffle bag. He examines his ribs and feels the slightest graze of a long cut, the skin barely red from Ignis’ weapon. “You almost carved me up like a rump roast at Christmas,” Gladio laughs, patting his skin. 

“You’ll just have to be faster next time,” teases Ignis as he leads them to the showers. 

“Guess this means I’ll pay Nurse __________ a visit after I clean up.” Gladio steps into the shower stall next to Ignis and turns on the hot water, groaning in satisfaction as it drenches him. He pumps the communal 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner bottle into his open palm and lathers his long, dark hair, quietly whistling to himself. 

“It’s not that bad, surely,” says Ignis from the next stall, voice elevated so that he can be heard over the cascading water. “I could bandage you up, I have supplies in my locker.” 

Gladio pauses. “Oh, uh, no that’s okay, Iggy. I don’t wanna put you out. Besides, isn’t that what Regis hired her for?” 

Ignis chuckles lightly. “I believe he hired her for more pressing medical matters than a cut barely a centimeter deep.” He hums to himself for a moment, then: “Unless...you have other intentions?” 

“Huh?” Gladio slowly stops rubbing the soapy rag over his chest. “Whaddaya mean?” 

“Gladio,” says Ignis. “I’ve been counting. In the past three weeks, you’ve visited her office ten times.” 

“So?” 

“I’ve never known you to be so enthusiastic about clinics before.” 

“Well, I...” Gladio pouts, happy that Ignis can’t see him. “I’ve just been getting hurt a lot, is all. Or uh. I need medical advice, and stuff.” 

“And stuff,” Ignis repeats. He sighs, and shuts off the water, appearing in front of the open stall a moment later, towel knotted low on his waist, bangs long and damp over his eyes, still dripping. “Gladio. Are you sure that you’re not just visiting ___________ for the hell of it?” 

Gladio cocks an eyebrow at his friend. “I don’t...I don’t understand what you mean, Iggy.” 

“It just seems to me that you’re in her office more than is actually necessary for a robust, healthy man like yourself. Are you...interested in her?” 

“Interested? What, you mean like...a girlfriend?” 

“Yes, I suppose that is what I mean.” 

He shrugs and shakes his head. “No, I...I don’t think so? What gave you that idea? She’s our personal nurse, right? Is there a rule telling me how often I can visit?” 

“Of course not.” Ignis looks away, hands on his hips. “Forgive me for prying, I was merely curious. I shall see to your shirt this evening. Can I expect you for dinner at Noct’s apartment?” 

“Six thirty as usual? Yeah Iggy, see you then!” 

Gladio’s left alone with his thoughts. _Girlfriend_. Huh. What a weird question, he thinks as he finishes washing himself. He dresses in a clean pair of underwear, socks, and sweatpants. He doesn’t have another shirt, and there’s no other glaive with his proportions who can lend him one, so...he meanders upstairs to the Citadel proper, shirtless, catching the elevator up to the private nurse practitioner’s office. 

“There, good as new,” _____________ says after applying a thin coat of salve, followed by a few strips of gauze and some medical tape. She turns and removes her latex gloves, washing her hands. 

Gladio looks down at his bandaged cut. It was smaller than he’d previously thought—so why did his whole side burn where she’d touched him, cleaned his skin? He’s got a high pain tolerance—fifty hours on his tattoo so far, and it’s not even done—so why does his skin feel like it’s on fire? 

“Anything else I can do for you?” She turns, drying her hands, smiling sweetly at him. 

Gladio suddenly feels like he’s free-falling from a cliff, stomach dropping down to his damn toes. Is he sick? What is going on? He sputters a reply. “I, uh. I dunno.” His heart is suddenly hammering against his chest, trying to escape. He swallows. “Uh, I feel...kinda lightheaded.” Dizzy, is he dizzy? Are the office lights always this bright? “Chest...heart rate feels fast.” 

“Huh.” She steps forward to the table and puts the back of her hand against his forehead. 

Gladio feels like he’s on fire when she touches him again. 

“You’re a little warm. Perhaps just overexertion from your training with Mr. Scientia?” She unwinds her stethoscope from around her neck and puts the buds in her ears, placing the cold metal pad against Gladio’s pectoral. 

He inhales and exhales slowly, looking up and away, trying not to inhale the light yet spicy perfume she’s wearing. What scent is that? Sage? Sandalwood? Ignis would know. Ignis knows everything. Her other hand is on his bare bicep, and he makes the mistake of looking back down, and he notices how small her hand looks against his developing arms. Something snaps in his brain at the sudden contrast in size, and he doesn’t know what to do. He feels his heart rate speed up as she places the stethoscope against his back. 

“Definitely beating a little fast there, Mr. Amicitia.” 

He shakes his head. She always calls him that. “Gladio, please,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth, throat suddenly dry. He flicks his eyes down and they catch the tiniest bit of cleavage revealed by her black silk blouse, and Gladio feels a sudden heat surge to his cheeks. What is _wrong_ with him today? 

She chuckles again, light, dismissive. “Sorry, sorry, force of habit. Just trying to be professional.” 

He shakes his head numbly. “You’ve known me for a while now. It’s fine.” 

“Hm, it has been about a year, hasn’t it? Well, if you insist.” 

Gladio nods, eyes slightly glazed over as he looks at the nurse practitioner. “Please.” 

She smiles again. “Sure, then, Gladiolus.” 

Gladio feels as though he’s been punched in the gut when she says his full name. He really must be sick. Is he having a reaction to something? What did Iggy cook last night...was it the imported caviar from the last royal gala? No, that was a week ago, surely he’d have felt the effects of that much sooner... 

“...overheated, typical physical exhaustion,” she’s saying as she loops the stethoscope back around her neck. “Take it easy for the rest of the day. If you’re still feeling this badly tomorrow, still having an elevated heart rate, please come see me again. I can do an EKG and a stress test if you feel it’s necessary. However, you have been having high blood pressure for a while now, whenever I check it. Does it run in your family?” She taps her chin. “It _could_ just be the effects of using the king’s magic, I didn’t consider that. I wonder if the link causes physical stress. Have any of the glaives reported elevated heart rates from long-term use of the Armiger?” 

Gladio’s attention goes in and out during her musings, which seem half to herself and half to him. He shakes his head and hops off the bed on shaky legs. “I...I gotta go. Uh.” 

“Oh, sure thing. Take it easy tonight, Gladiolus. If you’re still feeling like this in the morning, don’t hesitate to come again.” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure, thanks.” Gladio hurries out of the office and down the hall to the elevator, bracing himself with one hand against the wall while waiting for one to come to this floor. What in the Six is going on? 


	2. Chapter 2

“I think I’m allergic to the nurse’s office,” Gladio huffs, arms folded as he watches Ignis clean the kitchen after dinner. Noctis and Prompto are on the couch playing a video game, engaged in a furious multiplayer match against other online participants. 

“Beg pardon?” says Ignis, long sleeves rolled up and cuffed around his elbows, forearms buried in a sink full of soapy water. He turns and lifts an eyebrow at the shield. 

“Yeah. Allergic. It’s so weird. Last several times I’ve been in there, my heart rate is always high. She says maybe I have high blood pressure. Gotta ask dad if that’s a family thing. I always feel hot, lightheaded, kinda dizzy, too. Chest feels tight, like I can’t breathe.” 

Ignis just stares and is silent for several seconds as he slides his hands from the sink of submerged dishes, wiping them on dishrag that’s slung over his shoulder. He folds his own arms and leans against the kitchen counter, curious expression plastered on his face. “Gladio,” he says softly. 

“And then I told her to call me by my name, y’know she’s always so formal, _Mr._ _Amicitia_ , that’s my _dad,_ so she called me ‘Gladiolus,’ and I thought I was gonna pass out.” Gladio flicks his dark amber gaze to Ignis, eyes wide with worry. “What’s happening, Iggy? Am I sick? What if I can’t be Noct’s shield anymore? What if...” 

It’s then that Ignis does something slightly out of character—he bursts out laughing: deep, belly-shaking laughs that ripple over his whole tall, lean form. He doubles over, clutching his waist with still-damp hands, wiping tears out from under his glasses. 

Gladio scowls as Ignis scrambles to regain his composure from the sudden outburst. The younger man stands upright, coughing, taking deep breaths in an effort to regulate his breathing. 

“I don’t get what’s so damn funny,” Gladio spits. 

“My dear friend,” says Ignis, still kind of giggling. “The only sickness you are experiencing is _lovesickness_.” 

Gladio just stares, silent. 

“You’re merely attracted to our pretty nurse practitioner,” explains Ignis. “The increased heart rate, feeling hot in her presence...you _like_ her, Gladio.” 

“I...what?” Gladio shakes his head. “No I don’t.” 

“You big dolt,” says Ignis, patting his knee and taking a seat in the adjacent kitchen chair. “Describe how you feel when you look at her.” 

Gladio huffs, exasperated. “I already said, Iggy. Lightheaded, kinda dizzy. Hot.” 

“And when there’s physical contact? When she touches you when bandaging your wounds, for example.” 

“It...it burns. Like a jolt of electricity, from my head to my toes.” 

Ignis nods in understanding. “You obviously like hearing her say your name.” 

“Is that what it is?” 

Ignis just looks at Gladio, expression akin to someone trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. He wonders why Gladiolus Amicitia, famed womanizer, doesn’t recognize these feelings of want. “Do you wonder what it would be like to kiss her?” 

“I, uh...I haven’t thought about it? But...when she laughs, it’s like, I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. My heart rate feels like we’ve just gotten done training, even though I’m just sitting in the office.” 

Ignis smiles softly. He knows his friend isn’t stupid—but obviously, this has hit him a little differently than all the other flings he’s had in the past. This is more than a one-night stand with a woman from a bar or a club, where lust is quick and feelings fleeting. “Well,” says Ignis, with a small amount of pity. “Why don’t you try asking her out for a date? That might help you sort out what you’re feeling.” 

“A...a date?” 

“Yes,” Ignis replies, gliding back to the sink to continue washing the dishes. 

Gladio sits there in his feelings, trying to piece together the weird physical responses he’d had in ____________’s office this afternoon. “Ask her out on a date.” 

“ _Yes_ , Gladio,” says Ignis, a little exasperated at this point. Gods, this is bad. He's never seen his friend like this. The great Gladiolus Amicitia, rendered helpless by their dear friend, the nurse practitioner. Ignis shakes his head and finishes with the dishes, lying them all out on the counter to dry on the thick dish drying mat. The dishwasher is also full, halfway through its cycle. Ignis dries his hands and threads the kitchen towel through the oven’s handle. When he turns back, Gladio is just sitting there, staring off into space, nearly catatonic. 

“What’s going on?” Noctis wanders in, yawning. 

Prompto bounces in behind him, half-hanging off Noct’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

Ignis doesn’t miss the quiet blush on his prince’s cheeks as Prompto invades his personal space. Gods, he can’t deal with _two people_ having repressed emotions. He sighs, deciding to speak with Noctis later. He levels his gaze at Gladio. 

“Yeah, heard you laughing, Igster!” says Prompto. “Which, uh, is not like you. No-not that you’re, uh, not fun, or anything! You’re totally a mushroom.” 

“Pardon?” Ignis turns to the blond. 

“Y’know, a mushroom!” exclaims Prompto. “A _fun-guy.”_

“Oh good grief,” says Noct, but he grins like an idiot anyway at his best friend’s bad wordplay. 

“I see,” says Ignis, not wanting to burst Prompto’s bubble and tell him that “fungi” actually pronounced _fun-gee._ He clears his throat. 

“Yeah Specs, what were you laughing about?” Noctis folds his arms, then looks at Gladio. “Hey big guy, what’s up? You’re like, super pale right now.” There’s a hint of worry in the lazy prince’s voice. “Iggy, is Gladio sick?” 

“Yes,” says Gladio, blinking weakly up at his prince. He turns to Ignis. “Don’t you dare,” he begins to say, right as Ignis says, “I believe he has a crush on our dear nurse practitioner.” 

“Whaaaaaaat?” Prompto drags out the word, smiling at Gladio. “Dude, that’s so great! She’s really super pretty, you should _totally_ ask her out!” 

Noctis just stares. “What, really, you like her?” 

Gladio shoots a mean side-eye at the adviser. “I’m gonna kill you, Ignis.” 

“Hm, well. Good luck with that,” Ignis says, putting his hands on his hips, smirking. 

“I _don’t_ like her,” says Gladio. “At least...not like that. I’m just...sick.” 

“Pfffft, yeah, _lovesick_ ,” giggles Prompto, doubling over in his own laughing fit. 

Ignis doesn’t miss the way Noct’s eyes go wide, the way his throat bobs with a loud, audible swallow. He quickly flicks his eyes to Prompto, who’s too busy laughing at Gladio’s denial to notice anything. Ignis mentally curses and refrains from slamming the two boys’ heads together. He turns his attention back to Gladio. 

“You’re not sick, Gladiolus, for the love of the Six. You’re attracted to ___________.” 

He shakes his head. “But I’ve never felt like this...with other women?” His eyes water up. Fuck, he feels genuinely upset over this, confused. What is going on? 

“That’s because you’ve probably never developed feelings of this magnitude for any other woman you’ve been with. Tell me, when was the last time you were in a proper relationship?” 

Gladio thinks. “Uh. Couple years?” 

Ignis nods. “Everything since then has been a passing fling, quick get-togethers to satiate primal urges, nothing more. Picking up a woman at a bar, or a club, having drinks, sex, and rarely anything more...that’s not a breeding ground for a proper, healthy partnership.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’m telling you. Ask her out on a date. And you can go from there.” He pats the older man’s shoulder. 

Gladio looks up at him. “But...what if she says _no_?” 

Ignis sighs. He really has his work cut out for him. He looks back at Prompto, who’s coming down from his giggle fit, and at Noctis, who’s looking at the blond like a lost fucking puppy. He realizes that he’s not paid enough for any of this and turns back into the kitchen, itching to get his frustration out by making some cookies from scratch. 

“Good-lookin’ guy like you?” says Noctis, shrugging. “Don’t stress, big guy. You’ve got this.” 

Gladio looks down at his hands. But...what if he _doesn’t_ have this? 


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Gladio’s nervously pressing the _up_ elevator button, dressed in a gray dress shirt and black slacks, bouquet of roses in one big hand, box of chocolates in the other. He’s bouncing from foot to foot, sweat pouring from him in buckets. The elevator dings, and it’s thankfully empty as Gladio hurries inside, pressing the appropriate floor button, and holding it firmly down with one finger so that he gets a non-stop ride up. The _last_ thing he needs is Nyx or some other glaive seeing him like this, or worse—his _dad._ Gladio curses to himself and closes his eyes, attempting some of the meditation techniques Iggy’d shown him last year when he guided him beginner’s yoga. The roses and candy feel like hundred-pound weights in his free hand, and the formal clothes feel hot, stifling, the itchy material stretched across his muscles and making him aware of every little movement he makes. He rehearses what he’s going to say, over and over, just like he’d practiced with Iggy yesterday: _Hi __________, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I would like to get to know you better. Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?_ Gladio’s smooth, isn’t he? He’s talked to dozens, scores, of women in his life. He has no problem having a warm bed when he wants to, or company for dinner and drinks at a bar. He regularly schmoozes and charms the pants (and panties) off of foreign dignitaries and minor nobles at royal galas and banquets. His friends say he can charm the spots off a coeurl and convince a tonberry to give up its knife. If all of that is true, then why the hell is he finding this so damn difficult? 

Finally, the elevator dings his destination, and Gladio sends prayers to the Astrals so that he doesn’t fuck this up. He walks down the long, winding hallway, finally stopping at the large suite that houses their personal nurse practitioner. He lets out a long exhale, fumbling the flowers and chocolates between his hands, and clicks open the door. 

“Yes, come in? Which one of you boys has gotten hurt now...” ___________’s voice trails as she appears from within the small seating area that houses her desk and computer and personal things, separate from the outer clinic room, with all of its routine medical equipment. She’s rubbing lotion on her hands—a light sugary vanilla smell, he can smell it from here—and she’s dressed in a knee-length yellow dress, and Gladio thinks that maybe he should’ve brought sunflowers instead. Fuck, she looks like the sun, and smells of sweetness and light, and Gladio completely forgets what the hell he even came in here for. His brain has stopped, he can’t think, this damn dress shirt is making him itch to high heaven. 

To make matters worse, she _smiles_ at him, one of those grins that tears across a person’s whole face. Her pretty ______ eyes crinkle up and Gladio’s already blasted off into orbit. 

“Good afternoon, Gladiolus! You look sharp today. Are you feeling all right? Has your elevated heart rate from the other day persisted, or...” ____________ puts her hands in the pockets of her coat. 

Gladio’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He dumbly shakes his head. And well, there goes his heart, as fast as ever. He’s sure he would blow up a heart monitor, if she were to hook him up to one. “No, I, uh. Listen, I...came in to...to...” _To ask you to dinner._ “To just...uh. Get a routine checkup?” 

She nods, face relaxing out of the smile. She doesn’t question the flowers or box of candy. Ever the pinnacle of professionalism, ___________ leads him over to the examination table and asks him to sit. He does, still clutching his gifts. Her gifts. That he hasn’t given her. 

She does the routine shit—checks his blood pressure (high), listens to his heart, checks his ears, looks up his nose, puts the gross wooden tongue depressor in his mouth and looks at his throat, takes his temperature. Despite his sweating, he’s normal. 

“You’re as healthy as ever, Gladio.” 

Finally, the nickname. Gladio’s elated. “I, uh. You. You sure?” 

She nods. “Unless there’s some internal trauma you’re not telling me about.” 

It’s now or never. “Does, uh. Does heart trauma count.” 

“Heart trauma? You mean like a blunt cardiac injury? Myocardial muscle contusion, a rupture of the cardiac chamber, or...” 

“No,” says Gladio, shaking his head. “I, uh. Like...heart...heart feelings.” 

“Heart feelings,” ___________ repeats quietly. She glances at the flowers and chocolates in Gladio’s large, shaky hands. “Do you want to talk about these heart feelings?” 

“The sweating, the really fast heartbeat,” says Gladio, gazing at her soft face. “It, uh. It only happens in here.” 

“Is that so? It’s absolutely normal to be nervous in clinics and hospitals, Gladio. But given how often you’re in here, I take it that it’s not the office itself that makes you nervous, is it?” 

Gladio numbly shakes his head. 

She jerks her head at the items in his hand. “Do you always carry around roses and expensive chocolates, or is this a special occasion?” 

“You’re teasing me,” says Gladio, almost _whining._

____________ smirks devilishly. “Maybe.” 

Gladio thrusts out the bouquet of roses and candy box. “These are for you,” he mutters. 

“For me?” She lifts an eyebrow and takes the gifts, brushing her hands against his intentionally. She doesn’t pull away, and neither does he. She stares into his honey amber eyes. “Are you trying to ask me out, Gladiolus Amicitia?” 

Gladio nods slowly, words making their way back into his brain. “Uh, I. Ignis said to...to say that I want to...to get to know you better, and uh. That I should...ask you out to dinner. Tonight. Uh. We have...reservations at _La Mer.”_

“That really expensive seafood restaurant that opened up a few months ago?” Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. “Gladio, I...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say yes, please say yes,” Gladio practically begs, tears threatening to surface. “I...I think I really like you, and I get so nervous just looking at you, and I forget how to talk, and I...” 

Whatever else Gladio was going to say, it dies on his tongue as ____________ surges forward and kisses him, letting the gifts fall to the exam table as she clutches the collar of his dress shirt and bids him lean forward. 

Gladio’s done a fair share of kissing in his life, but few—if any—have ever been this heated, this passionate, this full of mutual attraction. Gladio forgets how to breathe as he slots his lips against hers, tasting her, exploring her small mouth with his tongue. Some of his usual courage surfaces, and he moves to cup the back of her head, holding her against him. That elicits a small moan that has him jolting on the table, and he can already feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He pulls away, finally, but not too far, putting enough inches between them so that he can look her in the eyes 

“Damn,” is all he can say. “You, uh. You kiss good.” 

____________ giggles. “Did I cure your heart feelings?” 

Gladio licks his lips. “Uh. I dunno. I think I need another dose, just to make sure.” He closes the distance between them, smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor.


End file.
